


Hobo Chic

by FortinbrasFTW



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Eventual Smut, Makeover, Multi, Reality TV, Television, queer eye AU, ratings updating as the fic progresses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-28
Updated: 2018-08-08
Packaged: 2019-06-17 19:31:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 11,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15468462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FortinbrasFTW/pseuds/FortinbrasFTW
Summary: Mollymauk is ready to do all he can to ensure his makeover show that specializes in taking the awkward and frumpy and transforming them into the fashionable and fabulous continues to thrive. However, things get tricky when a strange goblin girl volunteers her highly-qualified friend who seems anything but willing to upgrade his lifestyle.TLDR the Molly runs a Queer Eye reality show AU and Caleb is a very hard to crack guest





	1. Chapter 1

"Come on, let's see the victim!" Molly arched his back against the creamy leather of the passenger seat, stretching out ringed fingers behind him.

"Alright, alright just keep your ass in the seat," Fjord said.

"How do you know where my ass is? Eyes on the road, darling."

"Oh trust me, they're fixed."

"Come on, come on," Molly urged, groping blindly behind him.

"Gods just wait, like for just literally five seconds--" Beau said.

He could hear her scrambling then felt the cool of the tablet hit his greedy fingers. "Ah! Good, grand."

He snapped back into his seat properly and flipped open the tablet cover with a happy sigh. His window was down just enough for the breeze to catch in his hair, all fresh cut grass and warmth and orange blossoms. He took a deep breath, this was nice, it somehow felt cooler out of the city, but that wasn't so surprising, was it? The sea was fairly close to this part of the country. Maybe they could make it down there one day, once the filming was over.

"Molly?" Fjord prompted meaningfully from the driver's seat.

"Right, here we go!" Molly pivoted himself smartly so the wide-shot camera on the dashboard would get his best side. He tapped on the screen and opened the photo album, scanning idly through the shots they had as his silver bangles jangled lightly. "Interesting, interesting," Molly hummed, tapping his sharp finger rhythmically on the tablet.

"Don't be a tease, Molly!" Jester protested from her seat squeezed between Beau and Yasha in the back.

"Never," Molly insisted, "go on then, twenty questions, what'd you want to know?"

"Young and sad or old and sad?" Jester asked.

"Jester!" Fjord chided.

"What? We help sad people, that's the show."

"That's not exactly the show," Yasha said.

"I don't know... it's a pretty accurate byline," Beau muttered.

"Young!" Molly interrupted. "And not _especially_ sad looking."

"Twenties?" Beau asked.

"Early thirties."

"Just like you," Jester smiled.

"Don't tease me, Jester. You're all aware I'm turning twenty five in June and expect many extravagant gifts."

"Single?" Fjord asked.

"They're _always_ single, Fjord," Jester teased.

"Not always," Yasha said.

"Single, check," Molly said. 

"Handsome?" Jester crooned.

Molly frowned, squinting at the blurry shot. "Honestly? Hard to tell..."

These photos were certainly something. Most of the time when people submitted to be on the show they at least got a few classic candids, things like a graduation or a wedding, an arm slung around a loved one, a face smiling back at the camera. There were none of those sort of photos here, in fact they were rather like something that would be presented at a restraining order hearing. The one in front of him now was taken from behind a bush, bits of foliage blocking out part of the man's face, the next was while he was asleep on a couch with his arm draped over his eyes, another showed him walking a few feet ahead down the street, looking utterly unaware. All of this was made even stranger by the fact that it looked as though they were all taken from a very low angle, which combined with the odd candid nature put to mind a child learning to use a camera by snapping pictures of whomever happened to be close at hand. 

"Ginger, huh?" Fjord said craning to look over.

Molly pulled the tablet back protectively. "Hey, that's cheating."

Fjord sniffed, adjusting his grip on the wheel. "Hair looks decent, bit of a mess..."

"Does anyone have a gold star for understatement?" Molly smirked.

"Who nominated him?" Yasha asked.

"I bet it was his mom," Jester said, mock conspiratorially behind a hand to Yasha, "with the young single ones it's always the mom."

"Friend actually," Molly answered.

"Well hey, least he's got a friend," Beau shrugged.

"Beau, we talked about this," Molly said, leaning his head over the back of the seat. "Positivity, please."

"I think I'm being extremely positive given the circumstances."

"Might even say aggressively positive," Fjord muttered.

"That's right," she smiled at him, all teeth and sarcastic glint. "That's my brand, aggressive positivity." 

"Charming."

"That's no fair Beau," Jester pouted, "I want a _brand_ \--"

"Getting close!" Fjord broke in. 

Molly gazed out the window. The shiny black of the truck was slipping into a town. It was small, a park with a popular playground flanked by willow trees, a diner with an ice-cream stand, a small Main Street that was significantly less depressing than some of the others they'd been down. And that was where the orange blossom smell was coming from; the Main Street was lined in orange trees just starting to bloom.

"Y'all feeling ready?" Fjord asked. 

"I think Molly needs to pop at least three more buttons," Beau muttered.

"Gods, of course, thank you for the reminder dear." He flicked open two more buttons with a wink to the dashboard camera. It was a good look if he said so himself, the light blue short sleeve button up gaping almost to his navel. There was a small repeating pattern of moons decorating the fabric in a blue so light it was almost white, which set off the silver on his wrists, horns, fingers and ears neatly. He had platinum aviators tucked between his horns, and white jeans that fit him perfectly, all tied together with a highly crafted Oxfords tipped in silver metal on the toe. He loved those shoes. If he sat just right he could check his reflection. 

"What's his name?"

Molly swiveled, blinking in surprise. "What's that?"

Jester rolled her eyes enunciating dramatically, "What's, his, name?"

"Uhhh--" Molly frowned. He was usually very good about that, remembering and getting it worked right into the intro footage. He'd have to get them to edit this bit out. The last thing he needed was for this episode to come off poorly. It was the last thing any of them needed. He liked this job, he got paid to look pretty and tell people very politely what to do. It was perfect. He care for the idea of going back to picking out outfits for older women with too much money after this. He enjoyed TV and he thought he was very good at it. At least he had. Their first season had wonderful ratings, but the second had lagged, and now with the third in production the producers were sharpening their claws...

He looked down at the tablet again, swiping through his notes. "Caleb."

"Caleb what?" Beau asked.

"Let me see here, _Widogast_."

Beau snorted. "What does he have like three ex-wives tanned in his attic?"

"Beau I swear to god--" Fjord started.

"What! It's not him, I'm sure he's perfectly fucking average. As usual. Just a bad name. Come on, you gotta admit it's a bad name."

"I don't know, it's rather romantic, like some haunted Zadashian forest," Molly painted with a flourish of the hand. He flicked back to the pictures. Did this man look like a Caleb to him? Maybe. Shy, a little overly self-conscious. The name had a quiet sort of sound to it, like a passed secret. 

"There's no work address," Yasha said, "we could let the camera crew know they should head right to the house, does that sound like a good idea, Molly?"

Molly took one more look at the blurry silhouette with the hesitant smile. They really were terrible pictures. They'd have to sneak some better ones early on in the process for the B-reel. He slid his aviators down over his nose. "I think that's a fantastic idea."

\---

"This was a terrible idea."

Crashing sounded from the kitchen as Nott scrambled about. She didn't seem to hear him at all. 

"Nott, did you hear me?" Caleb called from the living room where he was preoccupied trying not to pace a hole through the threadbare carpet. 

" _What?_ " Her shrill cry came back from inside a cabinet.

"I--" Caleb started again only to be cut off as Frumpkin shot out of the kitchen, heading right for the cat door on the back porch. Caleb wished he could follow. The under the porch on the cool dirt so deep no one could yank you out again sounded like heaven right about now. 

Nott busied herself arranging all of their dirty mugs across the counter in a matrix. "What's up?"

"This," Caleb swallowed and shut his eyes for moment, trying to find the right words. "Nott, this was not a very good idea."

"No, no, no-- this was an _amazing_ idea! We just have to make sure this place looks really _truly_ terrible. Which, you could help you know, throw some old ratty t-shirts around or something."

"I-- I think it's far from ideal as it is."

"Yes! But if it looks _really_ bad, then we'll get even more free stuff, look--" she slid out of the kitchen holding a bottle of chocolate sauce he hadn't realized they owned. "Now, we don't have to, but, we _could_ get some of this on the couch, just to hedge our bets."

Caleb snatched the chocolate sauce away. "Nott, listen--"

Her massive yellow eyes swiveled from the contrived chaos of the living room to lock to his earnestly. "Yes?"

Caleb took a deep breath. "I... I don't know if I want to go through with this."

"You... don't want the free stuff?"

"Nein! I mean, I don't not-- look: this was a... nice idea, a nice and very confusing idea. I still am not sure why you thought it would be a good thing to sign me up for whatever this is, the Mighty Nine--"

"The Mighty Fine..." Nott corrected quietly.

"Ja, that. I... alright that makes more sense--"

"Look," Nott reached up and put a hand on the edge of his frayed shirt. "I am sorry. I'm sorry that I didn't ask before sending in your name, but it just, well it seemed like such a good opportunity."

"To invite a bunch of strangers into our house to call me a mess and throw away all of our things?" 

" _And_ buy us new things! I know you've never _really_ seen the show but they redo whole houses! And all new clothes and food, and well, it looks nice when they're done. And it was free!"

Caleb groaned. He let himself collapse on their old couch, which despite lacking chocolate sauce was already in a fairly sorry state. It sagged in the middle and threatened to suck you up like some slime beast, but he liked that it sagged in the middle, he liked that it looked like hell. Frumpkin loved to tear up the right back corner. What would he do with a new couch, guiltily tell his cat to go have fun elsewhere? He wasn't sure he had that in him.

"I, I appreciate that you thought this was a good idea. I can see the appeal. I mean I suppose I am a bit... well, I can see why they might be interested in my potential for... reality television," he suppressed a shudder. "But can't we, I don't know, call them up, tell them we have to cancel? I don't think I can do this."

Nott dragged a foot guiltily on the floor. "Well... no."

"Why not? I'm sure it happens, people get cold feet."

"Yes, I'm sure but, well... they're about to get here."

"What?" Caleb felt his stomach drop straight through the couch.

"Probably any minute, honestly. That's why I was trying to make sure everything looked especially awful, I-- Caleb!"

But he was already gone, scrambling up the stairs towards his room.

"Don't jump out a window!" Nott cried as he vanished up the creaking steps. "If I have to tell them you ran away into the woods when they get here--"

"Just, no, my coat, I have to hide my coat, I--"

"Here comes the camera van!"

Caleb spun back to his room, trying to make sense of the things that truly mattered in all the clutter. "Scheisse. _Scheissescheissescheisse_!"

 

"Oh! It's actually sort of cute," Molly said, rolling down the window and leaning out. The air was perfect out here, just that temperature where a good breeze almost feels like swimming.

"It's falling down," Beau said.

"It's got _character_ ," Molly insisted.

Beau elbowed Yasha, "Go on, tell him. He only listens to you."

Yasha leaned out the window to take a look. "It's a little... slanted."

"See." Beau said.

"It's by train-tracks! I always thought it would be wonderful to have a house by train-tracks."

"Gods, why?" Beau asked.

"Train tracks are fun," Jester chimed in, as the house got closer and closer. "You can put all sorts of things on them and when the train goes by then come out all flat and funny, you know, like coins, jewwwwelry, little porcelain figurines from the top shelf in the kitchennn--"

"Okay we're definitely doing that." 

"Don't encourage him," Fjord smiled. He parked the truck and Molly leapt out. The camera van was already pulled off the one side waiting, he could tell they'd made their way inside, just leaving two waiting to capture their entrance. Molly waved at the first, Brian he was pretty sure. Brian gave him a thumbs up.

"Mics good?" Molly asked the woman off to the side with a boom-mic, Sasha, she'd been with them forever. 

"Unfortunately," she answered, glaring at Beau. Beau snapped her finger against her lavalier. Sasha flipped her off.

Molly took a deep breath of the humid summer air and spun around, taking the rest in. Funny, he always loved places like this, hidden corners, forgotten things. It was hardly five minutes from the center of town but it felt so setback and still amongst the large trees. There was a broken down fence around the outside leading to a sagging covered porch. The paint was peeling off the sides and probably nothing but lead, but it did look, well, maybe he was a bit of a sucker, but hell it did look romantic. There were cicadas buzzing in the trees, the smell of July heat and something like a river nearby. The train-tracks were a little ways off, not directly by the house, but close enough that he imagined you could see the trains very well as they slid past in the night all lit up with other people's lives and journeys. Molly pulled himself away from the picture. He turned to Yasha as she uncurled herself and stepped out of the car, arching her back to her full impressive height. 

"Hey."

She turned to him, "Hey."

"How do I look?"

She smiled gently and tucked one stray curl behind his ear. "Just fine."

He rolled his eyes dramatically. "Oh great."

"You look like a fucking _god_ Molly!" Jester crooned.

"Thank you dear."

"And I don't mean like an annoying god I mean like one that's really good at fucking--"

"Yo, language!" Sasha snapped.

"Alright," Molly turned back to them all, "ready?"

Fjord straightened his collar. "Let's hit it."

The door to the tiny house burst open with a smack of sound. And shit, that might have been one of the hinges going. Oh well. 

"CALEB WIDOGAST! THE BELL TOLLS FOR THEE!" Molly crowed. 

The rest flooded in behind him instantly, pushing through the old door to get a proper look. The place was... well, if the outside looked rather romantic, that certainly didn't seep past the surface. 

Molly whistled. "That's certainly some literature." 

There were books _everywhere_. Molly didn't think he'd seen so many books in one place his life. He wasn't sure he'd seen so many books _ever_. Bookstores kept things tidy, library's kept things orderly, neither gave one the impression that the very edges of reality were simple disintegrating into paper pages and well worn bindings. The books looked wild, splayed out like lazy beasts where they pleased across the furniture and floor, layered into gluttonous towers that took up more space than almost all of the other furniture combined. Books aside, the place was a mess: mugs and clothes scattered, at least three different terrible carpets covering up the old wood floors, cat hair _everywhere_ , but surprisingly all of the books looked clean. 

"Oh hell!" Fjord swore, barely managing not to trip over a pile of books jammed right up against the doorframe. Yasha caught him, lifting him up and staring around and all the work waiting for her. Fjord sneezed, instantly glaring at the cat hair all over the floor with yet another, "ah, hell." 

"HellLLllo! Anyone homMme!" Jester sang, snatching up a pink feathery cat toy from the floor and swirling it around as she headed for the kitchen. "Oh jeez, there's nothing in here but ants and bread crusts and some weird looking meat, Molly!"

"Holy shit, books much?" Beau stepped inside. 

"Hello!" a strange voice piped.

Beau screamed. Molly spun around just in time to see her go bright red with shame which was entirely worth it. The little goblin was standing just to the side of the door, somehow managing to go unseen by them all until just now. 

She narrowed her gigantic yellow eyes at Beau repeating herself. "I said, 'Hello'."

"Yes, hello! I'm Molly," Molly chimed, instantly offering her a hand. "I'm a hugger, but something tells me to resist that impulse."

"Smart." She took his hand. "It's Nott."

"Ah, our obliging sponsor!"

"That's right," she gave his hand a good squeeze eyeing him intensely through the mess of straggly black bangs. She was surprisingly strong for someone so small and her nails were a little sharp but then again so were his. He didn't try to make it a contest, just smiled, shook nicely, and pulled back. 

"You're very... bright," she said. 

"I'll take that as a compliment."

"I thought they enhanced that with the special effects or editing or something, you know, for appearances and all that."

"Nope just me." He turned right to the closest camera person with a wink. "You got that right?" They gave gave Molly a thumbs up.

"Alright, Beau?" Yasha called.

Beau cleared her throat. "Fine. Good. All good."

"There are a lot of kitten mugs in here Molly..." Jester called from the kitchen. "I don't know if I'm going to be able to let Yasha smash them..."

"Now where would Mister Widogast be, Nott?" Molly asked.

Almost on cue there was a thud on the ceiling above. Molly tilted his head sharply. He looked to Nott. She gave him a nod.

"UPWARD!" Molly roared.

"Huzzah," Beau echoed sarcastically. 

Molly found the skinny old stairs faster than he expected, rushing up with the rest behind. The old wooden frame jolted and thudded under five heavy pairs of feet as Molly tried not leave enough space for the cameras and not jostle the mics too badly. Jester attempted to elbow past him and he jammed his shoulder across the tight width of the passage, "No you don't!"

She laughed and snaked her tail around his leg, tugging it back. Molly swore as he tripped, just managing to keep his footing as she squirmed past and leapt out of the stairway. "First! First!" She lunged for the partly ajar door.

"Not so fast!" Molly grabbed her tail and pulled hard. She yelped, crashing back onto the floor.

"Kids, please," Fjord called.

Molly danced past her snarling, shouldered into the door, spun in one neat circle to land with open arms and a brilliant smile. "Your salvation has arrived!"

The room was empty.

Jester plowed into his back hard enough to knock his wind out. They both hit the floor with a smack of sound. 

"For fuck sake Jester!" Fjord yelled. 

"He started it!"

"You always start it," Beau called.

Molly blinked against the floorboards as Jester pulled herself off of him. He could just see under the closet door in this position. There was someone standing inside. Molly grinned.

He peeled himself off the floor. "Ah, must be the wrong room, better check the others."

"Too slow!" Jester shoved past the rest as they clambered and spun to continue the hunt. Molly faked a wince, moving slower behind them. He caught Yasha's eye and gave her a meaningful look. She nodded shortly and shut the door after the last camera left.

Molly sighed. He turned, taking a few light steps across the floor again. He leaned against the door-jam, listening as Jester and Beau plowed through the room next door like oxen.

Molly reached out and lightly rapped two knuckles against the closet. "Anyone home?"

Inside the closet there was a shuffling of feet.

"May I come in?" Molly asked.

There was a moment of silence. "I'd rather you didn't."

"Well then would you consider coming out?"

"I... are you going to pick me up and spin me around or put costumes on me or something like that?"

"Not at the moment." 

The closet shuffled again. Molly took the hand he'd knocked with and opened it gently, palm down against the door. "'S alright, the cameras stepped out for a moment."

After another pause the closet sighed. Finally, the door clicked open. Molly stayed put, temple resting against the doorframe. A foot emerged, then a knee, and then a rather skinny looking young man a few inches shorter than himself. 

"Hello there," Molly said pleasantly.

The man turned to face him, his shocking blue eyes flicked to Molly's for just a moment, widened, and then fell immediately back on the floor. "Oh, uh, ja, hello..." 

Molly couldn't help straightening up. "Oh."

The stare flicked to his face for a just a moment again. "What?"

"You're actually..." Molly tilted his head with a please smile, "you're just very handsome, aren't you?" 

The man rolled his eyes hard. "I very much doubt that."

But he was, surprisingly so. The photos had been pretty awful, so he hadn't been expecting much, but this was, well, certainly not what he'd have put money on. It wasn't the bits and pieces that were the most striking, not the freckled ruddy skin that was flushing under the direct attention, or the quick dark blue eyes all care and clever and concern, or the artless way his hair was mussed, pushed back in a manner that was absolutely, unintentionally sexual. It wasn't any of those individual things, it was how they all came together, like light threads pulling through white linen to form a whole pattern. There was a strength that peered from the space between those fragile pieces: the tautness of his neck, the lines under his eyes, the thickness of his hair, the wider bridge of his nose... Molly was suddenly struck with the image some woodland thing, hidden under dappled light, ready to spook on light legs but with hard edges lurking just underneath--

"MOLLY YOU CHEATER!"

The man's attention flew from the floor to the door as Jester shoved back through.

Molly pulled his eyes away with a sigh. "Look, I did try--"

Jester ran up, instantly wrapping her muscular arms around the man's thin frame. "Hello! I am Jester!" 

His entire body tensed like a dried fish and Jester's laughter filled the room. "Ah, yes, hello, it's-- I'm Caleb." 

She dropped him, grinning at his flushed face as the others poured into the room with two cameras in tow. Jester slapped Caleb's shoulder under the ratty grey t-shirt. "Molly! Look at how handsome he is! Shame on you not saying."

Molly made sure the camera had the shot before winking at Caleb. "Shame on me." Caleb didn't seem to notice.

"He's not _that_ handsome," Beau snorted, popping into the room and instantly kicking around the stray shirts, and jeans, and-- "Is this a cat sweater?"

"Pretty handsome," Fjord noted. He stepped closer, eyeing Caleb with a kind smile, but the man still couldn't seem to meet his gaze. "Really a damn shame what you've done to that hair you know?"

"My hair doesn't have feelings." 

"No it don't, but it's hard packed with potential," Fjord grinned.

Molly caught Beau making full eye contact with the camera to roll her eyes. She kicked the cat sweater to Jester who instantly pulled it over her head with a delighted sound.

"So many books," Yasha muttered; this room was impossibly even more filled than the downstairs. The walls were lined, the closet was packed, the desk under the window was covered, there were even books around all the sides of the mattress where it sat on the floor, making them look like some kitschy bed frame. 

"I think we can do something a little more charming with them, don't you?" Molly asked Yasha.

She nodded, eyeing the ceiling where water damage painted it all sorts of hideous colors.

"They're not meant to be charming," Caleb said. "They're meant to be books."

Molly clicked his tongue, eyes lighting up on the find in front of him. "How do I look?" He asked, turning around and putting the fake cat ears onto his head.

"I swear to god if I find a fursuit in this closet--" Beau started. 

Caleb was blushing again. "I-- it was for Halloween."

"And now it's for Tuesday," Molly grinned.

He couldn't be sure, but for just a moment he thought Caleb start to smile. 

It didn't take long to wrap up the first day shooting inside. He had a list of moments he knew he wanted to capture, both for the A Reel and B Reel. There was plenty to work with despite Caleb's wandering around like a lost ghost through purgatory. Fjord asked Caleb about his hygiene regiment which was met with nothing but an empty look. Yasha had found Nott's pair of cat ears in her room and indulged Molly in a few shared selfies. Beau made a good show of picking up random clothing from the floor, and tearing them in half, which was shockingly easy given how threadbare most were. Jester went into the bathroom and immediately screamed something about mouse tails before finding a few unlabeled mystery cans in the cabinets and making a bit out of the rest having to guess the contents.

The nominator, Nott, kept asking them questions about the process and when they'd get started and just how much they'd do. Molly tried to assure her she didn't need to be worried and that it would all turn out fine. They did manage to grab a pleasing amount of shots of her scrambling around the rooms like a crab without it's shell, showing Yasha especially all of the worst off parts of the house with something close to glee. Molly didn't blame her, the place was fairly awful and had all kinds of of potential. They'd have to set up a time tomorrow for her sit-down interview. It was a key part of the intro sequence, and he had altogether too many questions.

They took some final establishing shots as the sun began to set around the house. The crickets were piping up and Molly leaned back on his heels, taking in the evening. It had been a good day, but he had to admit Caleb worried him. The last thing he needed was for the show to come off as forced or manipulative, shoving change onto someone against their will or worse still without their consent. That didn't exactly gel with the easy-breezy feel good attitude that drove their view counts. He'd had to convince the producers to squeeze this episode in and if it didn't go well, well...

He'd been struggling for weeks about whether or not to tell the others just what a precarious situation they were in. It had been his lunch with the producers that draped such an ominous cloud on things and for all he knew they had no idea. Maybe that was for the best.

He looked over his shoulder towards to porch as the camera crew shouted back and forth and loaded up the van. Caleb was sitting on the stairs, watching it all with a dazed expression while Nott pointed out to Yasha where the roof was starting to sag. Caleb gazed out into space looking lost and quite frankly more than a little upset. Molly frowned. They'd had people on the show who were hesitant before, and shy certainly, but no one who seemed so outwardly miserable in the face of their attention. He'd have to nip that right away. The last thing he needed was coming back with an entire week of shooting they couldn't even use.

He strolled up to him as the crew finished packing the van and Jester dragged Fjord over to the train tracks. It was getting dark, indigo nipping at the edges of the world gone sunset gold around them. Molly tilted his head, despite standing right in front of him Caleb didn't even seem to notice him. Molly tried not to be offended, he wasn't particularly used to not being noticed. 

"Hey," he said.

Caleb blinked, looking at him. "Oh. Ja?"

Molly tilted his head with a small smile. "Well?"

"... Well what?"

"How are you?"

Caleb had the distinct look of someone trying extremely hard not to roll their eyes. Despite himself Molly felt irritation prickle under his skin.

"Oh, wunderbar," Caleb said without breaking his monotone. 

"Mmm, right, well you look just radiant," Molly said.

"I'm sure," Caleb sneered, "a group of strangers broke into my house and invaded my privacy and tore up my clothing, how else should I look?"

"Oh come now, you can't break in if you're invited."

Caleb didn't answer.

Molly sighed. "Look, I know the first day is a little rough, but it really does get better from here on out. By the time it's done I promise you'll be feeling properly 'wunderbar', everyone else does."

Caleb dragged his finger against some dirt on the steps. "I am not everyone else."

Molly frowned. "Well, no of course not, but that's always how things end up going. Kind of the point. I'm sure you'll feel better."

Caleb looked at him suddenly. "Why should I believe you?"

"What's that?"

"You're sure I'll feel better? Why should I believe that? This is how you make your money isn't it? Telling peaceful people there's something wrong with how they live, telling them they are unacceptable to society, and then prescribing a solution of suede lining and an eccentric prints?"

Molly was struck. He couldn't help it, part of him wanted to laugh while another part of him wanted to seethe and instead he was left altogether dumbstruck.

Caleb winced slightly. "I'm sorry." He didn't look it. He peered under the porch as if he was looking for something. "I'm sure it will make for a very good show as you say."

Molly was suddenly not so sure.

"Let's go, Molly!" Fjord's voice called. They were all piling back into the car. Yasha was still talking to Nott as they made their way to the drive, the others joked together as the camera van pulled away.

Molly cleared his throat, pulling his smile back on like a glove. "You'll have to go to the hotel in the morning."

"What?" Caleb looked up again.

"We're going to have to take the whole week with the house, so take whatever and you and Nott can stay there while Yasha does her work."

"That's not on the show."

"Apparently mostly the suede lining that makes for good TV," Molly said perhaps a bit too sharply. "Don't worry, it's a nice place in town, looks... quaint."

A fresh wash of misery slide down Caleb's face. He looked as if he wanted to argue but didn't.

"Yes?" Molly couldn't help his tone. "Good?"

Caleb continued to peer under the porch. "Ja. Good."

"Great." Molly turned on his heel and headed for the truck.

The rest of them rambled on behind him as the vehicle pulled away down the long dirt drive. Molly glanced into the rearview as they left just in time to see an orange cat slink out from under the porch and into Caleb's lap. 

"Molly? Mollllllly!"

He turned. "Gods! Yes, what?"

Jester grinned from the backseat. "Which side do you want?"

"What're you talking about? What side?"

"Of the bet?"

"Jester thinks he's going to be the best result yet," Beau said. "I'm not so sure." 

Molly let his shoulder collapse into the door. He was so tired suddenly, even irritated. He hated being irritated, he rarely was and it wasn't a good look on him. Which really only ended up making him even more irritated. "You shouldn't bet on this type of thing."

"Spoil-sport," Beau snorted.

"Put me down for a yes," Fjord said, tapping his thumbs against the steering wheel as the white lights pooled on the dirt road that wound back to town. "There's a lot of potential."

"What about you, Yasha?" Jester asked.

Molly could practically feel Yasha's gaze boring into the back of his skull. She could always tell when he was off and he hated and loved her for it.

"What do you think Molly?" She asked.

Molly shut his eyes firmly, leaning back in the seat. "No comment."


	2. Chapter 2

"Tell us about Caleb."

"Caleb? Right, that would, well, he's..." The camera adjusts, softened focus sharpening to her glinting yellow eyes as they lift earnestly. "He's... amazing. Just amazing."

"Amazing. That's a pretty big word."

"It's only six letters..."

"That's not what I-- never mind. Can you tell us _how_ he's amazing?"

"He's _very_ smart. Probably the smartest person you've ever met. Just so you know. But he's also kind, and talented, and well, he's a good person. Really he is. Even if he doesn't always know it. He could be doing anything, anything he wanted to and, well, I suppose he's not... which is fine, but if he _wanted_ to, he really could do _anything_ , just anything at all!"

"When you say he's a 'good person' what do you mean?"

"I mean he's--"

"If you could just work the question into your answer, you know like we talked about?"

"Oh shit, right I--"

"And try not to swear?"

"Fuck, I mean, oops, I mean-- _When I say Caleb is a good person_ I guess I mean just that he, well... he takes care of me in a lot of ways. We take care of each other, really. But he makes sure I'm safe and have what I need, and he tries to help me when I get, well, when I want to do things, things that I shouldn't do."

"What sort of things?"

"I'd rather not talk about that."

"If you don't want to that's fine."

"Good. I said I don't want to."

"Alright... what about how you met? Could you tell us about that? How long have you known each other?"

"Oh, let's see... it would be about ten years now."

"That's quite a while."

"I suppose... It's funny. I don't really feel like there was too much before him. Well, there were things, plenty of things, but none of it... I like to think we both sort of started again, when we met each other. But I guess a lot of people feel that way about prison."

"Wait... Prison? Did you--"

"We met when it was my, let's see, my fourth month. He'd been there longer of course, but that's--"

"Hold on! Just, one sec, can we cut? Let's just--" The camera jostles, focus shifting out once more.

"What? Do you need to put more makeup on me. I don't think it did much good if I'm being honest."

"Cut, please. _Cut_!"

\------

Molly stared at the ceiling of his small room in the town's quaintest bed and breakfast.

He'd been staring at it for awhile now. That wasn't like him. Usually Fjord had to bang on his door and bribe him with croissants just to coax him from plush unconsciousness into languid stretches and grumpy mumbles. But he'd just woken up on his own this morning, at some ungodly hour. And he hadn't slept particularly well either...

The room waited patiently for him to start his day. The four poster bed was still delightful, complete with a mountain of pillows, silken bedspread, and gauzy curtains that shifted in the breeze from the window. The ceiling was accented by ornate molding and there was a large cream-colored fan in the middle that was designed to look like some sort of large whirling flower. Nearly everything in the room that wasn't stained wood or white plaster was a patterned vibrant orange scattered with warm pink: the upholstery, the carpet over the wooden floors, even the wallpaper. It was aggressively bright and mysteriously comforting at the same time. It rather made him feel like he'd been swallowed by a very hospitable dragon. On the mantle of the sealed off fireplace no less than six porcelain kitten figurines stared back at him placidly.

Molly groaned and rolled over. Maybe it was still early enough that he could fall back asleep. The sunlight cutting through his window, dappled from the willow tree out front begged to differ, but he could ignore that. He plopped a crisp lavender smelling pillow over his head, trying to maneuver it without catching on his horns. What was going on with him? Was he nervous? He was never nervous about filming. He loved his job and he was fantastic at it. So what was the problem?

_"You're sure I'll feel better? Why should I believe that?"_

Molly pushed the pillow tighter over his head, grumbling. So the guest was a bit of a dick. So what? They'd had worse people on, hadn't they? There was that episode in season one where the guy asked Jester _far_ too many very specific questions about her tail. There were those two children in season two who locked Beau in a bathroom for four hours. That was actually hilarious...

Then what was it? Was it that he, Caleb, didn't _want_ to be on the show? That certainly was different. They'd of course had people who were hesitant to change: they were nervous, or talked too much or too little, or were simple afraid to do something they'd never done before. But they were all still... excited, interested, intrigued. There was something about showing up in someone's life with four cameras and a moderately well known face that sparked a thrill in people, nerves aside. But that hadn't happened this time. In fact, the cameras, the attention, the glitz of it all seemed to make it worse rather than better.

And so what? Here he was, lying around restless, just because someone didn't immediately light up with a camera pointed in their face? Wasn't that the entire point of the show: to give people that confidence, to help them find that light within themselves?

Molly pushed the pillow back to the other side of the bed. He was being absurd. Moping? Over a challenge? He felt himself snort into the pillows, already starting to smile. It's more than a challenge: it's an opportunity. He sat up a little straighter, mind already starting to whirl. They just needed a plan. Yesterday he'd wanted to minimize the risk, cut down on all footage of Caleb looking like he'd rather be eating hot coals than bothering with their nonsense, but really he ought to be doing the opposite: capture it, all of it, and then get a plan together that would make this the biggest transformation yet! It was so clear. All he had to do was trust in himself-- no, not just himself, the rest as well, and that he had plenty of practice with.

That was it, the new vision: embrace the fear and run full tilt into the fabulous.

A muffled laugh pressed through the disturbingly thin walls, followed by swallowed groan. At least he wasn't the only one up.

Molly rapped two knuckles on the wall. "Hey, Beau!"

The laughter vanished into a swear and quick ruffling of blankets.

"Fuck off!" came back through the wall.

"You know, I think I'll take that bet. Mark me down for a ‘yes’ afterall."

More shuffling, Yasha's quiet laughter, a sudden yelp from Beau, " _stopitstopit-- gods, just one sec--_ Uh, okay..."

Molly leaned back against the princess bed-frame, gazing at the porcelain cats. Well, now that he was up...

He knocked again. "Want to go to the diner?"

"Molly, _Fuck Off _!"__

Another pause. Then, Yasha's deathly morning voice smothered by something on the other side of the wall: "...Pancakes?"

Molly grinned "I'll get dressed."

\---

The pancakes as it turned out were fluffy perfection. Jester finished hers first, with a slathering of whipped cream and maple syrup. She was currently busy wiggling her fork like a snake over to Molly's plate.

He slapped it with his own. "Paws off."

"You're eating to slow!"

"I'm eating like a person and not a vortex. Just get more if you're still hungry."

" _Anyhow_ ," Fjord broke in neatly, "we should get a schedule together for the week."

"Ah, yes!" Molly took out a neat journalist-style notepad from his pocket, the cover emblazoned with the tarot Hanged Man. "I've been considering things this morning, and I've decided I want to do everything possible to make sure this is absolutely the best episode we've shot yet."

"Bold," Fjord sniffed. "But there's a lot of good material to work with. It's possible..."

Molly felt Caleb's judgmental gaze ooze across his memory for a moment, but he pushed it away. "We're missing a piece. We need an event, some sort of big finale moment. Something tells me Mr. Widogast doesn't exactly lead a life riddled in PTA meetings, engagements, birthday parties..."

"I don't know," Beau stole some of Yasha's hash browns, "We could just set up the goblin girl on the couch, walk him in, spin him around, let her clap a lot."

"Beau," Fjord chided.

"Nah, it'll be good. I mean we could get them a cake, then film them going to throw rocks at a train. Best party ever."

"Don't worry, Molly," Jester said snidely, arcing her arms up above her head as she stretched. "I've already solved allllll your problems."

Molly blinked. "You do know how ominous that sounds, don't you?"

"Don't be silly." She fumbled in the pocket of her dress for a moment before pulling out a crumpled piece of paper. "You shouldn't be so mean to me, you know I'm very, very helpful."

Fjord smoothed the paper out so it was legible. "' _Midsummer Gala'_?" he read.

"It's perfect. You're welcome."

"Let me see that," Molly snatched it off the counter. It was hard to make out in its current condition but it seemed to be an annual festival of some sort held in the town center. The picture was charming: the gazebo in the park serving as a centerpiece, those large fairy lights strung between the top of it and all the trees surrounding. There was a dance floor and food and a number of tipsy laughing faces, even a brass band. It boasted fireworks, homemade ice-cream, face painting for the kids-- "It does look very good... would be a miracle though if the timing was right--" he let his gaze scan the page searching for a date and-- " _Friday_?!"

Jester grinned. "See, I'm perfect."

"You're a goddess."

"I know. Now give me the rest of your pancakes."

"Well earned," Molly slid them over, leaning back and snapping the paper as he continued to read. "Perfect, it will make for a great shoot: dancing, socialization, meals that don't come out of cans, everything he's been avoiding."

"Might be a hard sell..." Fjord said.

"I'll sell it," Molly's confidence said for him as images blossomed in his mind: a perfectly trimmed and tailored Caleb spinning his little friend around the dance floor with a genuine smile and fireworks in the background. It was as good as gold.

"If you think you can... it would make for a peachy finale episode," Fjord noted. "We can maybe call in some favors, make sure it's a real proper shindig."

"I don't know..." Yasha said.

Molly lowered the advert, narrowing his eyes at her. "I know that voice. You're going to ruin my fun. What is it?"

Yasha took a big bite of her pancakes. "The house is a wreck," she managed through her breakfast. "It's got decent bones but it would take a lot of work to fix it up properly."

"Can't we just throw some cheap decent looking shit in there and call it good? You know like we normally do?" Beau asked. Yasha elbowed her. "Hey!"

"How much are we talking?" Molly asked. "I mean to do it right, like really truly fabulously perfect?"

Yasha sighed, leaning back and turning her eyes to the ceiling as she let her mental math take over. "More than we have..."

"Forget that for a minute, what would it take to do it _right_?"

She shrugged. "Five times our usual budget? I think. It's hard to know. I might smash a wall down and run into termites or black mold or gods knows what else."

"The dead wives," Beau said into her coffee.

Molly ignored her. "Do you think you could do it?"

"I could do it." Yasha said. "It would take the whole week and I'd need some help. But I could do it."

"Leave that to me then."

"Molly," Fjord said warningly, "it's all well and good to be ambitious about the thing, but I don't want you backing yourself into a corner you can't get out of."

"I'm very good in corners actually," Molly winked, "plenty of leverage."

Fjord opened his mouth again but Molly interrupted before those earnest eyes bored too deep, bringing his sleepless night of uncertainty right back to the surface. "We'll do the standard schedule, sound good? Jester tomorrow, then me, then Beau, then Fjord. Yasha gets to work today, once I sweet talk the one-percent, and we do the big reveal on Friday. Good?"

Fjord looked skeptical. "It's going to be a lot..."

"It’s going to be literally what we do every time, _Fjord_ ," Jester teased, making short work of Molly's pancakes. "It's going to be _fine_."

"What I mean is _he's_ going to be a lot," Fjord clarified.

"He's going to be a lot of nothing," Beau noted, sipping the end of her coffee. "He's not going to give us shit to work with. It's going to be like pulling teeth."

"As in feasible and high paying," Molly said.

Beau stared at him deadpan. "As in fucking painful."

"Life's fucking painful Beauregard, so better learn to turn it into a living sooner or later," Molly smacked the paper back down on the table. "Everyone on board?"

"I think it sounds like fun," Jester grinned. "He's so handsome, it's going to go very well."

Molly felt his smile go rather wooden for a moment. He shoved it away easily. "Exactly, most of the work's done already."

"That's always the most important part," Jester preached, dragging a strawberry through whipped cream and making swirling trails around her plate. "I mean it's good they end up happy, most of the time, but that's what everyone likes the most: getting to see someone gross get to be so handsome."

"Jester, that's not exactly alright," Fjord said with a frown.

Her eyes widened. "What? It's true! That's all anyone cares about."

"People like to see other people make their lives better," Fjord said.

"People like thinking _they're_ better than other people, and people like seeing pretty things," Jester said, popping the strawberry in her mouth. "I don't know why you're upset, it makes the whole thing much more easy."

Molly opened his mouth but just as he did his phone suddenly sprung to life in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced down. The ominous title _"Mr. G"_ stared back at him. Molly swallowed.

"Who is it?" Beau asked.

"I'm taking it outside," Molly answered, sliding out of the booth and dodging a waitress on his way to the exit.

"Molly? That you, dear?" The smooth voice asked through the phone.

Molly ran a hand through his hair, forcing his smile on straight. "Yes! Good morning."

"How's the weather down there? Balmy?"

That was what Molly always found particularly obnoxious about Mr. G, no matter how irritated, or disappointed, or downright furious he was with you, he always sounded as smooth as a sea breeze and polite as politics.

"It's lovely," Molly said, doing his best to match the carefree pleasantries. "Brimming with the best kind of charm."

"Charm, gods. Small towns..." Mr. G's said, giving an audible shiver, "I don't know why but I always hated small towns. Quaint parks and chipper locals, give me a city any day. At least in the city the grim is right on the surface. You have my condolences."

Molly took a deep breath. "Did you call to check in on the filming?"

"Oh no, I already checked in with Sasha this morning."

"Sasha?"

"Oh yes, she let me know that the guest you're working with was apparently in prison for five years."

Molly's stomach dropped. "Pardon me?"

"I believe you heard me. I'm surprised this didn't come up in your diligent research phase, aren't you?"

Molly opened his mouth then shut it again along with his eyes, tightly. "How did she, I mean... where did this information come from?"

"Oh well that's the really amusing part, his nominator just let her know during the interview this morning. It's where they met apparently, isn't that just... what was your phrase? Oh yes, brimming with the best kind of charm."

Molly took a deep breath. This was fine, he was going to make this fine. He was good in corners.

"I know," Molly heard himself say.

Mr. G paused, before sarcastically drawling: "Pardon me?"

"I know he was in prison, that they both were. Why do you think I was so eager to take this one?"

Mr. G paused, Molly could almost feel the curiosity prickling through the phone. "Interesting choice..."

"I thought so. It's the perfect set up really. He was in prison, a while ago now, and here he finds himself, struggling to find a place in society again, when in we come with a helping hand. We take an ex-con and polish him up into a pillar of society, complete with the pocket-square. It's a bit of an oversell admittedly, but honestly it will be a new angle, and with his potential we can turn him out perfectly. I thought it would make a perfect premiere, or finale, either way it's got the possibility to headline the season."

There was a long pause. Molly could almost hear his heart beating in his throat.

"And... you think you can -- how shall I put this -- stick the landing?"

"Tens across the board," Molly grinned cheekily.

There was a huff of a laugh through the phone. "You're cocky. I do like that about you."

"Most people do."

"Alright. I'm intrigued. 'Convict to Classic', no that's not quite right... well, I'll have to writer's work on it. Do let us know if you need anything else, Tealeaf."

"Actually--" Molly broke in before he could second guess.

"Mm?"

"The house."

"What about it?"

"It's a big project. Yasha says she can make it the best yet, but it needs a bigger budget."

"... Are you honestly asking me for _more_ money?"

"I'm asking you to invest in pinnacle of the season. If I'm being honest, think it's the pivot we really need, and a remodeled house would be the cherry on top. You know the houses are always the part when it really clicks for them."

"It sounds..." Mr. G took a smooth breath, "risky."

"And since when do you not love a good gamble?"

The voice laughed. "Oh, I _do_ like you. Fine, you've got it. Just have her send the budget to the office, I'll sign off."

"Wonderful, it's going to be perfect."

"Good, because Tealeaf," the voice chimed, "you know how I hate to be disappointed."

\-------

Caleb stared at the porcelain owl on the mantle. It gazed back at him, massive painted eyes glaring into his soul.

"There's free soap!" Nott called from the bathroom. "Ooo, and look," she popped out again, with a little plastic cap over her head. "What's this for?"

Caleb stared back at the owl. "So you don't get your hair wet."

"What? In the shower?"

"Ja."

"Why the hell am I taking a shower if I don't want my hair to get wet? That's absurd. Rich people are idiots."

Caleb hugged his little bag closer to his chest. It didn't have much, but it was most of the clothing they'd left him with after yesterday. He tapped a toe against the floor where Frumpkin batted at it playfully. He felt, well... restless was putting it absurdly lightly. He didn't want to stand, he didn't want to sit, he didn't want to put down his things. He didn't want any of it.

"Come in here!" Nott said. "This lotion smells like that place downtown that sells the overpriced lamps made out of old milk bottles!"

Caleb didn't answer.

She popped back out, eyeing him finally with a frown. "What's wrong?"

Caleb smothered a groan. "What _isn't_ wrong?"

She shuffled out of the bathroom. She was wearing one of the monogrammed bathrobes which trailed behind her a good two feet. "You don't like it here?"

"It's all--" Caleb tried, looking around to gesture at something and not being able to choose between the linen curtains and the antique chairs and the damned owl, which turned the gesture into more of a whole body flap. "It's just... it's so _much_!"

"It's nice!" Nott grinned hopefully. "Don't you think it's nice?"

"We don't exactly do nice."

"Why not?" she shrugged. She tried to wave her little hand but the bathrobe was still smothering it, "That's sort of the point you know of all this, the whole thing. We could do things... nice."

"I know, I know, but I just--" he trailed, squeezing his small bag of relics closer to his chest. Frumpkin gazed up at him with golden eyes. "It doesn't feel right."

"It feels different."

"Ja."

"Well... maybe different isn't so bad."

Caleb finally let out the sigh he'd been holding deep in his chest, collapsing backwards onto the bed.

"Here," Nott said, stepping closer. She took his bag away and leant it against his bed, then did a frantic little motion to knock the long bathrobe sleeves away from her hands. Once she freed them she wrapped both of hers around his and gently pulled them away from the clutched position close to his chest. She smiled. "It's going to be okay."

Caleb stared back at her, trying to find some way to believe it. "I suppose it's just a few days. Then back to normal."

Nott's expression wavered only slightly. "Sure, normal. Or, you know... new normal."

"What's that?"

There was a knock on the door.

"Hide!" Nott whispered instantly.

"What? No--"

"Oh gods, right, sorry," she laughed, "we're _supposed_ to be here." She headed for the door radiating confidence.

"Nott, wait--"

She pulled it open. "Oh. It's you."

"Hello to you too," the glib voice answered.

Caleb felt his stomach twist. Perfect, just perfect.

"What'd you want?"

"You're very charming Nott, has anyone ever told you that?"

"Never."

"Shocking. May I come in?"

"Why not?" She stepped back, opening the way for the purple tiefling to step into the room.

Caleb looked at him for a moment before letting his eyes drop like weights back to the floor. He was a lot to take in.

"Hello, Caleb," he said in the cheerful voice that sounded like it saw all the dark thoughts a person had and instead of being rightfully horrified was delighted by them.

Caleb managed a weak wave. "Ja, hello. Um..."

"Molly. Mollymauk."

"Right."

"Enjoying the accommodations?" he asked, penetrating red gaze swiveling back to Nott. Caleb realized she was still wearing the shower cap.

"Oh just fine," Nott said with a flick of the wrist, hand still smothered in the bathrobe, "very, uh, adequate."

Molly grinned toothily, and gods his teeth were white. Caleb supposed that was contractually required for television. "Well, I'm glad to hear it, that's exactly what we aim for: adequacy."

He looked back to Caleb. Caleb looked away instantly. The owl on the mantle glared back at him with bulbous eyes.

"Fancy an ice cream?" Molly asked.

Caleb blinked. "What?"

"I came to see if you'd like to go get an ice cream."

"Oh, I--" Nott started.

"Actually dear, just Caleb. If you don't mind. At least for now, I'd love to go again with you sometime very soon."

"I, well, I suppose..." Nott trailed.

"I don't understand." Caleb tried again.

"I saw this darling little place on our way in. Across from the park? Little metal garden tables, black and white tiled floors- I've got to try it. I wanted to know if you'd come with me, show me around the town a bit."

"I," Caleb suddenly didn't know what to do with his hands, he jammed them under his thighs. "I don't know the town."

"You know it better than I do."

"That's less likely than you think."

Molly took a deep breath and tilted his head a bit to the side. The jewelry on his horns jingled. "Caleb. Come get an ice cream. I want to have a chat."

The knot in Caleb's stomach tightened. "We can 'chat' here. If we have to."

"Or we can chat with rainbow sprinkles and cherries on top," Molly turned towards the door with a jerk of his head. "Come on, it'll be fun."

Nott was giving Caleb a meaningful look.

He took a deep breath. It was only a few days. That's all. He just had to make it through, and then everything would be back to normal.

"You'll make sure he's happy?" Caleb asked Nott, looking to where Frumpkin was puddled near his feet. As if he needed it, Frumpkin was insultingly far more at east than he felt.

"Of course," Nott shrugged.

"Come on," Molly smiled, and gods, that wasn't supposed to be a way actual people smiled. Smiles like that were supposed to sell toothpaste and waltz through obnoxiously flavored liquor commercials, not pop into your hotel room and ask you to go for an ice-cream.

Caleb swallowed, trying to convince his stomach to uncurl. "Ja, that's... ja, fine."

"Wunderbar," Molly winked.

The place wasn't far. Caleb had never been there himself but he'd seen it in passing plenty. It was hardly a five minute walk from the Inn, but it felt long all the same.

Mollymauk kept pointing to things and asking about them as if he were genuinely interested. "Have you ever been there?" "What's that place?" "Where do people go for fun?" He didn't seem to mind that Caleb hardly knew more than he did. He was even _waving_ at people which made Caleb wish he could dissolve inward at the speed of a blackhole. And he did it so easily! As if it were nothing. Smiling that absurdly easy smile and waving and saying hello, and what made it worse was how _everyone_ said it back. There was something infectious about his general energy, people seemed so eager to reflect it. Bemused grins lit up their faces as they beamed at Molly, their eyes eventually turning to his own downturned expression with curiosity. He didn't blame them. What a picture they must make. He was sure they all thought it was some sort of social requirement on Mollymauk's part, like a coworker taking another out after a bad day. Little did they realize the truth was even more pathetic.

Molly pulled open the door to the ice-cream shop for him and Caleb slunk inside. It was blessedly cool compared to the temperature on the street, and the place was pleasant and small, just a little counter in a tall rectangular shaped storefront, three metal tables behind the glass garage door that served as the front window.

Molly sauntered up to the counter. Caleb saw the dwarf girl behind the bar elbow her human friend hard in the side with a meaningful look as he approached. Caleb dropped his head again, trying to feel as inconspicuous as possible.

"Oh, hello!" the human chimed, a younger looking man with frizzy dark hair.

Molly leaned on the counter in the most entitled and yet easy way Caleb had ever seen, his tail swishing lazily behind him. "Hello, hello. Now, who's going to tell me what I absolutely can't miss on this menu?"

The two of them fought for at least ten minutes to get sample spoons into his ringed fingers, utterly hanging on his reactions which were full of enough groans and exclamations to leave Caleb kicking his shoes with intense focus against the tiled floor. Molly finally settled on black raspberry with rainbow sprinkles. Caleb insisted he didn't need anything, prompting the two behind the counter to notice him for the first time since they entered. But Molly pushed, and rather than argue he got a single scoop of coffee.

They sat at the table closest to the window, and Caleb scooted the ice-cream around with his spoon as Molly investigated his own.

"You know," Molly said, "I love sprinkles, but they're really just a curse."

"What's that?"

"You have to lick them all off first thing, at least to properly manage the drip factor, and then they're gone. It's a necessity, and a damned shame. You are forced to choose between savoring something and getting messy. Now I tend to always savor _and_ enjoy the mess, but ice cream’s a bit too messy for even me. They should find a way to get the sprinkles on the inside as well, problem solved."

"Ice cream engineering," Caleb murmured, having a small bite with his spoon.

"Exactly. More of that please."

It was quiet for a moment. Caleb adjusted in his seat, gazing down at the ice-cream as it started to melt. He knew the people behind the counter were staring at them, or rather at Molly, maybe wondering what they were doing there together. He could feel Molly watching him, but he didn't want to try and digest the technicolor image of the purple tiefling in his gaping pastel pink shirt licking up rainbow sprinkles.

"How's the room?" Molly asked.

Caleb glanced back at him for a moment instinctively before he could stop himself, and ah yes, that was exactly as overwhelming as he thought it would be. His eyes crashed back down to his saucer. "Fine. It's fine."

"Good. Just let us know if you need anything at all."

Caleb couldn't help letting out a bitter little laugh.

"What?" Molly asked.

Caleb changed the subject. "No cameras today? I thought that was rather the point."

"They're filming Yasha as she starts on the house."

"Oh. Good." A stab of anxiety shot through him as he imagined the burly stranger throwing around his books, knocking down walls, chucking all of Frumpkin's things out into their yard... He tried to push the picture away, watching the camel-toned ice cream trail lazily under his spoon.

"Anyways, I didn't want them here." Molly's ringed finger tapped against the cool metal tabletop. "I wanted to talk to you."

"Ja, so you say."

"...Caleb?" Molly said.

Caleb knew what he was expecting, it was the tone people always used when they wanted just the same, all kindness and curiosity with just a touch of pity. Caleb sighed and looked at him.

Molly smiled back brilliantly from behind his ice-cream. He'd gotten most of the rainbow sprinkles off, but there were still some stuck to the pale purple ridges.

"Are you happy?" Molly asked.

Caleb blinked. "I, uh... I don't understand."

Molly tilted his head a bit to the side, the long silver chain that hung down to his chest slipped to a different spot on his collarbone. "It's not a trick question. Are you happy? With your life, with yourself?"

There was that bitter huff of laughter again, sneaking out before he could catch it. "My life is my life. We do just fine."

"We?"

"Nott and me."

"Right." Molly tapped his finger again, eyes focusing. "Can you tell me why you laughed just then?"

"When?"

"When I asked if you were happy with yourself?"

Caleb shrugged, leaning back in the little metal chair. "It's funny to me."

"Why?"

"Of course I'm not happy with myself."

"And why's that? Why 'of course'?"

"Because there's nothing to be happy with."

Molly's eyes widened for a moment. "That seems harsh, don't you think?"

Caleb narrowed his eyes. "I've been selected to appear as an attraction on a show that's all about taking pathetic people and making them palatable. I don't think it's too harsh."

Molly's face twisted for a moment, but it was gone just as fast. He took another lick off his ice-cream. "That's not what the show's about."

"Of course not," Caleb said sarcastically.

"It's about helping people feel better about themselves," Molly said, his voice sounding almost stern for the first time. "It's about giving people a way to recognize they can value themselves, and helping them do just that."

Caleb let the corner of his mouth tug into a crooked half-smile. "Not everyone has value."

Molly stared back at him, unflinching. "I don't believe that."

"Then you're naive."

"Maybe I'm just the opposite."

"I don't think so."

"I don't know," Molly said, the easy smile sliding right back across his lips as he shrugged loosely and turned his attention back to his cone. "I happen to have a lot of experience in this sort of thing."

Caleb took a bite of his ice-cream, mostly to have anything to focus on besides the person across from him.

"Look, Caleb," Molly's voice continued, all smooth syllables and deep edges. "I'm not here to destroy your life, I'm not even here to ruin your day. I'm really here to do my honest to gods’ best to make you happy with your life, with yourself even."

"You just assume," Caleb heard himself say, "you assume you know what's best, you assume you know me."

"I don't know you," Molly said, "but I'd like to. If you'd let me."

 _I don't trust you, I don't believe you._ Caleb swallowed, staring at his hands were they held the spoon.

Molly sighed. "Look, I'm not asking you to walk out of here ready to throw away every hang-up you've ever had, and show up eager peppy in the morning."

"Then what are you asking?" Caleb said, glancing up at him.

Molly held his eye easily, naturally. "Your friend cared enough about you to make this effort, to ask us to come. I'm just asking you to try. For her, even if not for yourself. At least at first."

Caleb sighed, letting his spoon fall against the edge of the paper dish. _My friend cared enough to get a free sofa._

Molly gazed back at him. "Is that so hard?"

"Nein. I suppose not."

"Grand!" Molly buoyed back, taking another lick. "We'll start with the food stuff tomorrow, that's usually pretty easy just so you know. And we'll tell you some more about the week's plans, but we'll want the crew around for that."

"Oh, good."

"Try to contain that excitement for the cameras," Molly winked. As he did, a bit of melted purple ice-cream weighed down by sprinkles plopped off the side of the cone and onto the strikingly similar color of Molly's chest.

Caleb wanted to dissolve into the earth.

"What?" Molly asked, noticing his expression.

"You've-- you got, there's a _tropft_ , drips, uh I mean, on your--" _Don't say cleavage, don't say cleavage --_

"Oh!" Molly reacted, following Caleb's look himself. "See," he said, swiping the ice-cream away from his lavender skin with an index finger. "Cursed." He popped his finger into his mouth.

Caleb dropped his eyes to his melted mess of a saucer, cheeks heating up despite his best efforts. "Ja... cursed."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone for all the lovely kudos and comments, they really keep me going<3

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading! Comments and kudos help the fic machine keep going <333
> 
> AND thank you to [Kangoo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kangoo) for suggesting the Mighty Fine as the best possible pun name that I was searching for
> 
> CRIT-ROLE SPOILERS AHEAD:  
> I started this fic a few weeks back and then stopped for a while after the sadness. But after taking some time and listening to Talisan talk about how Molly is always doing great in his head I really wanted to pick it back up again. I hope everyone continues to keep Molly alive with fanwork etc. no matter what happens in game.


End file.
